Together in Our Solitudes
by Michelle Birkby
Summary: Sam's thoughts during Solitudes; Complete


Have you ever known desperation? Real, heart-wrenching, gut-churning desperation? The sort that pushes you and pushes until you think you'll go insane, and then pushes you some more until you really do go insane? I thought I had, but hadn't. Not until now.   
  
Not until I'm sitting on top of the frozen DHD, watching him cough and seeing that dark blood spread so so clearly across the frost. Desperation staining the purity of our minds. Whatever the hell that means. I'm not thinking too clearly right now. I'm preparing to die, and its not half as frightening as I expected. Not with him here.   
  
Our situation had been difficult. Difficult, but not impossible. We'd both been in worse situations. Both of us in the Gulf war, oddly enough. As I rest here, I realise it was the intelligence he'd gathered that had marked out the targets I'd bombed. How's that for coincidence?   
  
There was his broken leg, which I tried to set, but that was okay. Nothing we couldn't cope with. The gate was right there, wasn't it? All I had to do was clear the DHD, and we'd be home. A little shaken, a little chilly, but home.   
  
But no. And that's when I felt a tiny worm of fear and torment start to twist in my stomach. When I couldn't get us home, and the Colonel, this man I admired and respected and hero-worshipped, and now was my friend, cough his life out in front of me.   
  
It's funny, but I get the feeling if I hadn't been there, he'd have laid down and died. He was like that back then, at the beginning, his dark side prevalent, his suicidal tendencies colouring all his actions. Hell,that's why he was picked to go on the first mission anyway. Jack O'Neill was a man looking for a good cause to die for. But as I cuddled up to him that night, as much for my comfort as to share body heat, I realised that he was making a conscious effort to live. If I hadn't been there, would he have continued to try to open the gate? Heated the water, kept warm, kept talking? Jack O'Neill had become a man with a good cause to live for.   
  
Me.   
  
I'm not saying he loved me. Not then. But I think he knew that without him there, his sarcastic remarks, his unfailing optimism in the face of my pessimism, I'd have died. And Jack O'Neill never let anyone under his command die. Not ever. He'd forgotten his dead son, his estranged wife, and was concentrating only on keeping me alive.   
  
I tried harder. I worked so hard, but cold affects the mind. For months afterwards I kicked myself for not trying to dial to another planet, and then home. No matter how many times Janet reminded me that cold slows down brain functions, I was over loaded with guilt. Until he pointed out to me that as commanding officer, it was his duty to think up spectacular rescues, and would I just relax, for crying out loud?   
  
But he was dying. And he faced it, unafraid. Alone. I couldn't have done that. There was desperation in his eyes, but for me, not him. He was desperate to get me out. How could I ignore the pleading in his eyes, when he begged me to leave? I told him I'd get help. I meant it. But he nodded, and agreed only to get me out of there.   
  
"It's been an honour serving with you, Captain.". That was goodbye. It was the highest compliment he could ever pay anyone, and he'd paid it to me, a scientist that he'd never really wanted on the team. We'd become friends, but I'd never really until that moment how close we'd become. How much he'd respected me.   
  
I kept talking to him, feeding him hope. Then I got to the top. White. So much white it blinded me. No civilization. No dark smudges of smoke. Just the endless, silent, unforgiving purity.   
  
I stood there for along while, trying to decide what to do. I could take the supplies, and walk. I might make it. I might last a day, even two. At least I'd have tried. I'd have made a stab at surviving. The Colonel wanted me to go. So why was I still standing here, not moving?   
  
I had never understood why Daniel had offered himself to be infected with a Gou'ald after Sha're was taken. Surely it was better to live, even if she was gone, keep the memory of her love alive? Why waste yet another life? What was gained by it?   
  
But as I stood there, choosing between a slim chance of life, or none at all, I understood. I understood being bound to someone so tight that you can never let them go. I understood the pain of leaving someone behind, alone. Even if they didn't know you were there, at least you knew you had been there.   
  
So I went back down. He was asleep when I curled up next to him, a breath away from dying. I wasn't sorry. I knew I belonged there. Even when he whispered 'Sara', all I could think of was to comfort him as he lay there, as he comforted me by being there.   
  
When we had fallen into this cave, we had been alone. Each of us in our own little solitude of pain and abandonment. But now...now we would die together, neither of us alone anymore.   
Daniel said they found us like the babes in the wood, curled up under a layer of frost, our hands frozen together. He said he almost didn't want to separate us, that it was the most peaceful he'd ever seen Jack.   
  
In the end, Jack recovered quickly. His fit, well-toned body was used to bouncing back from his ill-use of it, and he was up and about within a month.   
  
I was not so lucky. I'd sustained internal injuries too, though i hadn't known. I'd ignored the throbbing pain in my abdomen, and concentrated on escape, and after a while, the pain of the cold was so sharp, that everything else just subsided into background discomfort. Once I was warm and safe, I relapsed into a coma.   
  
I slept for two months. I didn't want to wake up. But I knew there was a reason I had to. I knew there was something I had to know. So reluctantly, one day, my subconscious prodded me into opening my eyes. And I had my answer.   
  
The Colonel was in a wheelchair opposite me. His head was resting one hand, his elbow propped up in the chair arm. He was asleep, but alive. Involuntarily, I smiled.   
  
Who'd have thought a simple expression of joy could be so painful? I wanted to scream, but all that came out was an inarticulate squeak.   
  
"Sam?" he said, waking up and leaning forward. "You awake?". I blinked. It was about the only movement I could make without my nerves screaming bloody murder.   
  
"Oh, thank God." he whispered, to himself, rather than me. "Thank you thank you thank you! Yes!" he yelled, which brought Janet in.   
  
He stayed there while she checked me out, and introduced me to the button that brought pain relief. Then she left us alone for a moment.   
  
"Captain." he said seriously, although I could see the joy in his eyes. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe that I, Samantha Carter, could bring such happiness to a man I once thought of as taciturn, rude and suicidal. "Captain, I thought I'd ordered you to leave me and find somewhere warm.".   
  
I nodded.   
  
"And why did you disobey my orders? I mean it Carter, what on earth possessed you to come back for me?".   
  
I still could barely croak the words, and it hurt like hell to talk, but I said it anyway.  
  
"Because you would have come back for me.". He said nothing. He merely reached across for my hand, and held it carefully, and looked straight into my eyes. Nothing more was said, but we knew the experience we'd shared had broken down the barriers. We weren't alone any more. From now on, our lives belonged to each other.   
  
We sat that way for a while, until Janet came in, and shooed him out. I watched him wheel his way out, and heard yell the good news to Danny and Teal'c as he left. "Well, you cheered him up." Janet said.  
  
"How long...?" I croaked.   
  
"How long was he here? From the moment he woke up, he demanded to see you, and he hasn't left your side since.".  
  
And I slept peacefully, knowing neither of us were alone any more.  
  
THE END. 


End file.
